The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems
And write their woe, and live in charity;
And for to have of them compassion,
As though I were their owen brother dear.
Now listen all with good entention,* *attention
For I will now go straight to my mattere,
In which ye shall the double sorrow hear
Of Troilus, in loving of Cresside,
And how that she forsook him ere she died.
In Troy, during the siege, dwelt “a lord of great authority, a
great divine,” named Calchas; who, through the oracle of
Apollo, knew that Troy should be destroyed. He stole away
secretly to the Greek camp, where he was gladly received, and
honoured for his skill in divining, of which the besiegers hoped
to make use. Within the city there was great anger at the
treason of Calchas; and the people declared that he and all his
kin were worthy to be burnt. His daughter, whom he had left in
the city, a widow and alone, was in great fear for her life.
Cressida was this lady’s name aright;
*As to my doom,* in alle Troy city *in my judgment*
So fair was none, for over ev’ry wight
So angelic was her native beauty,
That like a thing immortal seemed she,
As sooth a perfect heav’nly creature,
That down seem’d sent in scorning of Nature.
In her distress, “well nigh out of her wit for pure fear,” she
appealed for protection to Hector; who, “piteous of nature,”
and touched by her sorrow and her beauty, assured her of
safety, so long as she pleased to dwell in Troy. The siege went
on; but they of Troy did not neglect the honour and worship of
their deities; most of all of “the relic hight Palladion, <4> that
was their trust aboven ev’ry one.” In April, “when clothed is the
mead with newe green, of jolly Ver [Spring] the prime,” the
Trojans went to hold the festival of Palladion — crowding to
the temple, “in all their beste guise,” lusty knights, fresh ladies,
and maidens bright.
Among the which was this Cresseida,
In widow’s habit black; but natheless,
Right as our firste letter is now A,
In beauty first so stood she makeless;* *matchless
Her goodly looking gladded all the press;* *crowd
Was never seen thing to be praised derre,* *dearer, more worthy
Nor under blacke cloud so bright a sterre,* *star
As she was, as they saiden, ev’ry one
That her behelden in her blacke weed;* *garment
And yet she stood, full low and still, alone,
Behind all other folk, *in little brede,* *inconspicuously*
And nigh the door, ay *under shame’s drede;* *for dread of shame*
Simple of bearing, debonair* of cheer, *gracious
With a full sure* looking and mannere. *assured
Dan Troilus, as he was wont to guide
His younge knightes, led them up and down
In that large temple upon ev’ry side,
Beholding ay the ladies of the town;
Now here, now there, for no devotioun
Had he to none, to *reave him* his rest, *deprive him of*
But gan to *praise and lacke whom him lest;* *praise and disparage
whom he pleased*
And in his walk full fast he gan to wait* *watch, observe
If knight or squier of his company
Gan for to sigh, or let his eyen bait* *feed
On any woman that he could espy;
Then he would smile, and hold it a folly,
And say him thus: “Ah, Lord, she sleepeth soft
For love of thee, when as thou turnest oft.
“I have heard told, pardie, of your living,
Ye lovers, and your lewed* observance, *ignorant, foolish
And what a labour folk have in winning
Of love, and in it keeping with doubtance;* *doubt
And when your prey is lost, woe and penance;* *suffering
Oh, very fooles! may ye no thing see?
Can none of you aware by other be?”
But the God of Love vowed vengeance on Troilus for that
despite, and, showing that his bow was not broken, “hit him at
the full.”
Within the temple went he forth playing,
This Troilus, with ev’ry wight about,
On this lady and now on that looking,
Whether she were of town, or *of without;* *from beyond the walls*
And *upon cas* befell, that through the rout* *by chance* *crowd
His eye pierced, and so deep it went,
Till on Cresside it smote, and there it stent;* *stayed
And suddenly wax’d wonder sore astoned,* *amazed
And gan her bet* behold in busy wise: *better
“Oh, very god!” <5> thought he; “where hast thou woned* *dwelt
That art so fair and goodly to devise?* *describe
Therewith his heart began to spread and rise;
And soft he sighed, lest men might him hear,
And caught again his former *playing cheer.* *jesting demeanour*
*She was not with the least of her stature,* *she was tall*
But all her limbes so well answering
Were to womanhood, that creature
Was never lesse mannish in seeming.
And eke *the pure wise of her moving* *by very the way
She showed well, that men might in her guess she moved*
Honour, estate,* and womanly nobless. *dignity
Then Troilus right wonder well withal
Began to like her moving and her cheer,* *countenance
Which somedeal dainous* was, for she let fall *disdainful
Her look a little aside, in such mannere
Ascaunce* “What! may I not stande here?” *as if to say <6>
And after that *her looking gan she light,* *her expression became
That never thought him see so good a sight. more pleasant*
And of her look in him there gan to quicken
So great desire, and strong affection,
That in his hearte’s bottom gan to sticken
Of her the fix’d and deep impression;
And though he erst* had pored** up and down, *previously **looked
Then was he glad his hornes in to shrink;
Unnethes* wist he how to look or wink. *scarcely
Lo! he that held himselfe so cunning,
And scorned them that Love’s paines drien,* *suffer
Was full unware that love had his dwelling
Within the subtile streames* of her eyen; *rays, glances
That suddenly he thought he felte dien,
Right with her look, the spirit in his heart;
Blessed be Love, that thus can folk convert!
She thus, in black, looking to Troilus,
Over all things he stoode to behold;
But his desire, nor wherefore he stood thus,
He neither *cheere made,* nor worde told; *showed by his countenance*
But from afar, *his manner for to hold,* *to observe due courtesy*
On other things sometimes his look he cast,
And eft* <7> on her, while that the service last.** *again **lasted
And after this, not fully all awhaped,* *daunted
Out of the temple all easily be went,
Repenting him that ever he had japed* *jested
Of Love’s folk, lest fully the descent
Of scorn fell on himself; but what he meant,
Lest it were wist on any manner side,
His woe he gan dissemble and eke hide.
Returning to his palace, he begins hypocritically to smile and
jest at Love’s servants and their pains; but by and by he has to
dismiss his attendants, feigning “other busy needs.” Then, alone
in his chamber, he begins to groan and sigh, and call up again
Cressida’s form as he saw her in the temple — “making a mirror
of his mind, in which he saw all wholly her figure.” He thinks no
travail or sorrow too high a price for the love of such a goodly
woman; and, “full unadvised of his woe coming,”
Thus took he purpose Love’s craft to sue,* *follow
And thought that he would work all privily,
First for to hide his desire all *in mew* *in a cage, secretly
From every wight y-born, all utterly,
*But he might aught recover’d be thereby;* *unless he gained by it*
Rememb’ring him, that love *too wide y-blow* *too much spoken of*
Yields bitter fruit, although sweet seed be sow.
And, over all this, muche more he thought
What thing to speak, and what to holden in;
And what to arten* her to love, he sought; *constrain <8>
And on a song anon right to begin,
And gan loud on his sorrow for to win;* *overcome
For with good hope he gan thus to assent* *resolve
Cressida for to love, and not repent.
The Song of Troilus. <9>
“If no love is, O God! why feel I so?
And if love is, what thing and which is he?
If love be good, from whence cometh my woe?
If it be wick’, a wonder thinketh me
Whence ev’ry torment and adversity
That comes of love *may to me savoury think:* *seem acceptable to me*
For more I thirst the more that I drink.
“And if I *at mine owen luste bren* *burn by my own will*
From whence cometh my wailing and my plaint?
If maugre me,<10> *whereto plain I* then? *to what avail do I complain?*
I wot ner* why, unweary, that I faint. *neither
O quicke death! O sweete harm so quaint!* *strange
How may I see in me such quantity,
But if that I consent that so it be?
“And if that I consent, I wrongfully
Complain y-wis: thus pushed to and fro,
All starreless within a boat am I,
Middes the sea, betwixte windes two,
That in contrary standen evermo’.
Alas! what wonder is this malady! —
For heat of cold, for cold of heat, I die!”
Devoting himself wholly to the thought of Cressida — though he
yet knew not whether she was woman or goddess — Troilus, in
spite of his royal blood, became the very slave of love. He set at
naught every other charge, but to gaze on her as often as he
could; thinking so to appease his hot fire, which thereby only
burned the hotter. He wrought marvellous feats of arms against
the Greeks, that she might like him the better for his renown;
then love deprived him of sleep, and made his food his foe; till
he had to “borrow a title of other sickness,” that men might not
know he was consumed with love. Meantime, Cressida gave no
sign that she heeded his devotion, or even knew of it; and he
was now consumed with a new fear — lest she loved some other
man. Bewailing his sad lot — ensnared, exposed to the scorn of
those whose love he had ridiculed, wishing himself arrived at
the port of death, and praying ever that his lady might glad him
with some kind look — Troilus is surprised in his chamber by his
friend Pandarus, the uncle of Cressida. Pandarus, seeking to
divert his sorrow by making him angry, jeeringly asks whether
remorse of conscience, or devotion, or fear of the Greeks, has
caused all this ado. Troilus pitifully beseeches his friend to leave
him to die alone, for die he must, from a cause which he must
keep hidden; but Pandarus argues against Troilus’ cruelty in
hiding from a friend such a sorrow, and Troilus at last confesses
that his malady is love. Pandarus suggests that the beloved
object may be such that his counsel might advance his friend’s
desires; but Troilus scouts the suggestion, saying that Pandarus
could never govern himself in love.
“Yea, Troilus, hearken to me,” quoth Pandare,
“Though I be nice;* it happens often so, *foolish
That one that access* doth full evil fare, *in an access of fever
By good counsel can keep his friend therefro’.
I have my selfe seen a blind man go
Where as he fell that looke could full wide;
A fool may eke a wise man often guide.
“A whetstone is no carving instrument,
But yet it maketh sharpe carving tooles;
And, if thou know’st that I have aught miswent,* *erred, failed
Eschew thou that, for such thing to thee school* is. *schooling, lesson
Thus oughte wise men to beware by fooles;